The Moon's a Harsh Mistress
by In Christ Alone
Summary: When we have drunk the cold cup of the moon's intoxication, we thirst for something beyond ourselves; and the mind flows outward to a natural immensity…Such unadulterated magic, such unquenchable power. Yet unreachable. It would never be her's, nor her people's, ever again. Forever just out of reach, forever tempting them. A cruel fate, to be sure. And one she would never escape.


**Just a quick drabble of a songfic. This is actually an older one of my stories... but Oh well. Enjoy!**  
**The Moon's a Harsh Mistress~ Celtic Woman**

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_"When we have drunk the cold cup of the moon's intoxication, we thirst for something beyond ourselves; and the mind flows outward to a natural immensity…"__  
__~Lady Gregory, 1905_

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_See her as she flies__  
__Golden sails across the sky_

Aoife sighed as she watched the moon. Elves never could resist it. Her beauty allured and entranced them like no other thing. The young elf leaned back into the tall, lush green grass and settled her skirts about her for a long night ahead.  
_  
_

_Close enough to touch__  
__But be careful if you try__  
__Though she looks as warm as gold__  
__The moon's a harsh mistress__  
__The moon can be so cold_

Aoife tossed and turned in restless fits of slumber. Dreams of years past, lives long quenched, flowed into her. A magic so feral that it connected one with the utmost, natural powers of the Earth. Wind surrounded her, Water drowned her, Fire burnt her soul, and Earth kept her grounded.

Grounded. Grounded from her moon, forever away from it's terribly intoxicating embrace, it's enchanting glances, it's magic-filled strokes…

Sleeping under the moon could bring such strong magical effects that one could go insane. But that would be the most beautiful end to any life: forever in the moon's embrace.

This magically- induced slumber was the only escape she would get for many years to come. Tomorrow, all fairies would flee to their hastily built tunnels underground. No one knew how long they would remain there. All they knew was that a ferocious battle was waging at the small fishermen town of Taillte.

How long would she suffer without the moon's rays?

_Once the sun did shine__  
__And Lord it felt so fine__  
__The moon a phantom rose__  
__Through the mountains and the pine__  
__And then the darkness fell__  
__The moon's a harsh mistress__  
__It's hard to love her well_

Captain Holly Short flitted over the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean, thankful for the warm breeze that caressed her tired muscles.

How she missed the surface. It called her, beckoned her and tempted her constantly. Just one more night on the surface- no one will notice.

Specifically, it wasn't the surface that called her. It was the moon. That terrible, yet terribly beautiful guardian that stood watch over them for centuries.

Holly glanced at it now; it's full, round face beaming at her from so many miles away. It looked so powerful, with the reflection of the calm waves doubling its temptation.

_I fell out of her eyes__  
__I fell out of her heart__  
__I fell down on my face__  
__I tripped and missed my star__  
__And I fell and fell alone_

Rock crumbled around her slippered feet as Aoife fled down the tunnels. The barest of light from the flickering torches illuminated the faces of crying children, panicked women and crazed men, all stampeding for their destination. Yells, the one only the most desperate of souls could muster, filled the tunnels in a cacophony of sounds that smothered her ears and filled Aoife with the most mournful feeling. Her heart beat double-time, and her palms were slicked with sweat, making the journey underground difficult.

Her hands slipped as she grasped a stalactite, crumbs of rock showering the line of people spiraling down below her. The path downward was narrow and treacherous. It was the best they could pull together in such a short time, and was filled with very dangerous turns. One of such she was on, her feet barely holding the edge. A long fall would await her, would she to falter.

The center of the Earth.

This prospect daunted many, but few argued when insane humans were pillaging and burning your towns.

In one small, crumbled hole in the top most layer of the tunnel, Aoife caught a glimpse of the moon.

Tears, earlier forbidden, slid unchecked down her face. The moon.

Her moon.

The moon, soaked with the blood of her fellow countrymen tonight.

Her moon, never to be seen again by her people.

A cruel fate, to be sure. One she would never escape.

A falling sensation greeted Holly as she stared into the depths of the moon. Such unadulterated magic, such unquenchable power.

Yet unreachable.

It would never be her's, nor her people's, ever again. Forever just out of reach, forever tempting them.

A cruel fate, to be sure. And one she would never escape.

_The moon's a harsh mistress__  
__The sky is made of stone__  
__The moon's a harsh mistress__  
__She's hard to call your own._

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**Sooo… reviews for the starving author? And, if you didn't mind, check out my other story. I've only had one review. **** And it is going to be a lllooonnngg story. **


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